


The Weeping Man

by helianthe



Category: Legend of Zelda, Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Boss Backstory, Gen, Hylian Civil War, Illustration, Kakariko Village, Sheikah, Sheikah/Twili Theory, interrupted narratives, non-chronological storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helianthe/pseuds/helianthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One way or another, he had told her, Sheik must die. And if Impa were as faithful to the Royal Family as all her clan was, then it would be by her hand that he would die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lacrimosa dies illa

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my BFFOFATS. She kindly allowed me the use of her right brain.

_lacrimosa dies illa_  
 _qua resurget ex favilla_  
 _judicandus homo reus._

* * *

I mpa woke to Sheik shaking her shoulder, his single eye gazing at her with eternal composure. She sat upright in the darkness, all of her joints screaming, her skin prickling beneath her thin blue armor. Her head felt stuffy, as if it were filled with cotton. 

"What time is it?" she asked, struggling to conceal the discomfort in her voice. She coughed, and her chest hurt.

"A little past midnight," her companion said, his voice muffled behind his mask. Impa was a little embarrassed, because she knew he had intentionally let her sleep longer than they had agreed. She did not want to think about how long it probably took him to successfully wake her. For a Sheikah to be such a heavy sleeper, even while ill… all she could do was be a hindrance to him. She sucked in the cold night air, trying to keep herself from coughing once again.

Sheik parted her silvery hair and touched her forehead with the palm of his hand. Though his fingers were bandaged, she could feel the coolness of the exposed skin that brushed against hers. She closed her eyes momentarily to savor the feeling.

"You're still running a fever," Sheik said, but did not remove his hand, as if he knew that it was a comfort to her. "It would be better for you to sleep longer."

"Nonsense," Impa said, allowing herself to smile weakly as she put both hands on his and pushed it away from her forehead. "We've a mission to complete. You don't think a silly cold is going to hinder me, do you? We must hurry if we want to reach Hyrule Castle before daybreak."

Her friend said nothing in response, and she swept the cloak she had been sleeping on off of the ground and pinned it with the scarlet eye brooch at her neck. When she made sure all of her things were in tact, she gave Sheik a quick nod, and they were off.

He ran ahead of her. Despite being masked, he was fast and dodged through the foliage and branches with ease. Impa was used to seeing his back, as he often took the initiative to go before her. Dear Sheik, she knew him too well. Since she had met him, he was always attempting to protect her in a subtle manner. But she had noticed when he purposefully walked at her left when they traveled the roads or moved ahead of her in the training ground's obstacle courses. Perhaps all of Kakariko, too, knew of his kind and humbly chivalrous ways.

That was why her own mission was so unthinkable. She lowered her head so that her nose and mouth were covered by the high collar of her cloak. Impa was glad that she was sick, although she felt awful every time she awoke. It was a good cover for the uneasiness she felt, so that if Sheik were able to sense her anxiety or fear, he might suspect it was due to her physical state.

Yes, she knew very well what she had to do, though she did not yet know why.

But her father promised her that she would understand. That she was permitted to remove his mask once their mission was complete.

One way or another, he had told her, Sheik must die. And if Impa were as faithful to the Royal Family as all her clan was, he said, then it would be by her hand that he would die.

* * *

Impa met Sheik when she was a girl. She was born in a time after the Great Division of the Sheikah, when the village of Kakariko was still young and her people experienced peace with all the rest of Hyrule. Before the war, her childhood was a happy one, even if it could be described as ordinary. She immediately began her training as a Sheikah warrior, assisted her parents with chores around the house and was constantly scolded by her mother for playing in the Graveyard.

"If you play in that graveyard again, Impa," her mother would say as the daughter stood before her guiltily, "The Enemy will snatch you up from the middle of the night and carry you away. You hear me?"

At that time, Impa didn't understand the weight of that word. She just knew that the Enemy were to be hated for their treachery, that they were a twisted and sinister people, although they too, were Sheikah, the other shadows of Hyrule. They had abandoned their loyalty to the crown, and had committed some sin against the divine. Or so she had been told.

But despite all her mother's threats, she often found herself walking through the graveyard, humming some ancient tune while listening to the ghosts that tread there. Impa was strangely in tune with the dead, and instead of being afraid, she felt as though she were among friends who were peacefully resting. When she was a little older, she became more reverent and tread the grounds with a pious heart. It was around this time that she met him.

He was brought into the village by her father, severely wounded and covered in her father's large cloak. She only caught a glimpse of his dark face and bandaged body before her parents whisked him away. Her mother nursed the boy back to health in the small house at the center of the village. It had been left empty after a family of three died of illness the previous year. Impa remembered how her father had given the tribe strict orders to never enter the house, on account that he was extremely weak and could not be overly excited.

"Where does he come from, father?"

"His tribe was killed by the Enemy. We rescued him on our way back from Hyrule Castle, for they had left him for dead. Take care of him, Impa."

When Sheik was healthy enough to stand and walk, he was always seen wearing a full-face mask with the Sheikah eye painted on it. Her father and mother said that he had terrible scars over his face and that it had grotesquely disfigured it. Aside from the two of them, nobody else had ever seen his face, even Impa. And she never asked, it seemed that Sheik was extremely sensitive about the matter. It also appeared that the boy had a weak heart, and was often seen clutching his chest, as if in pain. Her parents gave him the house to live in, and he was there by himself. But Impa saw that he was never along, because she went to see him every day since the moment she first met him.

She remembered that moment very vividly. The image of the boy in the white and scarlet mask was forever impressed in her memory. His arm was in a sling as he sat upon his bed. That day her mother had sent her over with a basket of fruits and cheese so that she could finally meet the stranger that would eventually a become her best friend. When she set it on the table, he did not make any move to retrieve it to eat.

"Aren't you hungry?" she had asked him, knowing that he hadn't eaten all that morning.

He was silent, as if he were trying to think of what to say. Then she realized and shot up to her feet, in a hurry to leave so that he could have his privacy.

The first day he ever spoke to her was also the first of many times that she would see him cry. Ordinarily, in her assertive and tomboyish way, she would reprimand the boys who cried when they were harshly scolded or injured during the practices. Men should never cry. And yet, that day when she arrived at Sheik's house carrying a basket of his daily provisions, she saw so clearly how he sat by his window, his masked face gazing outside, the cold white light showering him.

There was an unmistakable glimmer from under his mask that fell from his chin in drops like crystals. Each tear hit the hands clasped in his lap, but he was unmoving and utterly silent as he wept. And in that moment, she thought that it seemed so poetic for a boy to cry.

When he turned his head toward her, his front side still glowing from the light of the window, she froze at the sight of another tear glowing as it fell and splashed onto his clothes. His voice followed, controlled and unashamed.

"Impa… you're here. I'm glad."

And she smiled back at him.

"Good morning, Sheik."

* * *

When the princess had asked her for her own history, Impa was first compelled to give her the textbook summary of the civil war that had wiped out her entire race. But when the girl locked onto her gaze with those impossibly blue eyes, Impa felt that the princess herself had the authority to demand Truth.

So the Sheikah woman smiled broadly, stirring old, precious memories.

"When I was your age, I had a friend who was so very dear to me..."

* * *

They found a crushed Gossip stone in the glade, the shards barely recognizable as the Sheikah emblem. Sheik knelt down close to where it had been dashed, and Impa joined him, seeing if there was any trace of information left in the remains.

Even for Sheik, there were no words. The Enemy had destroyed it completely.

Impa's chest burned as she held in her cough, but it reached the point when she couldn't hold it in. Her coughs were deeper and drier, and her headache was starting to return. She took a drink from the stream nearby to soothe her burning throat and splashed water onto her face.

"They're moving towards Hyrule Castle, like Father thought," Impa said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "They're going to try to find the Sacred Realm… I didn't imagine that it would be so soon, they-" She stopped mid-sentence. Sheik followed her silence and stood nearby as she reached into her cloak and opened the black leather pouch on her belt.

Her fingers grasped the shell of the deku nut with precision and she threw it with such speed and force it might have been able to crack open from the force of the air resistance alone. Instead, it weathered through and fell through the windows of the leaves in the brush before bursting.

A cry immediately followed, and she assumed a fighting position as two figures, exposed from their hiding places, jumped out from the spot. Sheik drew his dagger and its metallic song hung in the air as he made contact with one of the attackers first. Impa momentarily diverted her attention away from his fight to focus on her own engagement.

Impa caught her opponent's blade on her metal gauntlet, feeling the rattling vibrations against her forearm. From this close she could see the man's face and his Sheikah markings, which immediately identified him as one of the Enemy. A thin crimson line, like a single streaking tear, was tattooed down each of his equally crimson eyes. She shoved him off and unsheathed her own dagger, striking swiftly after its release, while keeping an eye on the second enemy who was locking blades with Sheik. As she struck at her opponent, she stepped forward, leaving one side completely exposed if he were to dodge her attack.

Which he did with ease, and he moved in for the bait, bringing his weapon towards the space between her armor and cloak.

But he struck only air as his blade fell through what only seemed to be the soft flesh below her collarbone. The momentum from his attack caused him to fall forward as her image promptly disappeared, and he caught his balance, only to have an incredible, yet swift pain enter his back. He fell dead at her feet, and she instead was standing directly behind him instead, pulling her dagger out and flicking it to remove the excess blood. Immediately she turned around and repeated the motion with Sheik's assailant, who also crumpled, not knowing what had hit him. She did it with a stone-cold face, having been hardened by the many more she had killed before them, even if they were brethren.

"Thank you," she said to Sheik, who had cast the illusory spell of her to distract her opponent. This sort of expertly handled cooperation had dramatically reduced the time that these sorts of skirmishes would normally have taken. It was this swiftness and deadliness that had deemed them worthy of the task that they had been appointed, and it was for that very purpose that they hurried along towards Hyrule Castle.

Impa leaned on her knees, bent over, still holding the dagger with its fresh blood dripping off its point. She breathed harsh, ragged breaths, and the cool night air felt like ice through her nostrils, sharp against her throat. Her headache had fully returned, her cheeks red and hot.

"A fine time to be sick," she muttered to herself, wiping her brow and straightening before Sheik could be too concerned for her. "I'm fine, I just was a little winded," she assured him, her face hard so as to assert this claim.

"Be more gentle with yourself." His tone was commanding, and it irked her somewhat. "I'll take care of the future fights, so don't overexert yourself."

She said nothing to this, because though her pride rubbed her the wrong way, her rational mind concluded that she was grateful for his support. Instead, she wiped off her blade and sheathed it, and took calm steps towards the direction of Hyrule Castle.

"Let's go."

* * *

After he had been rescued and carried into Kakariko village, Sheik recovered from his injuries quickly and regained all the motor skills required to train alongside the other children. The mask was unnerving to the other villagers, but Impa knew immediately that he was very special. Her father also said he was special, because while the Sheikah train and practice their eyes for a whole lifetime for the gift, Sheik had the innate ability to See.

Impa herself had been learning much about illusory shadow magic and Seeing. Though she preferred fighting hand-to-hand, the mystery of the Sheikah magic was a crucial element in the culture and trade of her people. Agility, Loyalty, Truth. It was the mantra to which she swore and by which she lived.

Her father taught the younger Sheikah the art of combat, the way of the shadows and the discipline of Seeing. Like her brother before her and their older sister before him, Impa dutifully followed through with her studies and trained every day so that she could one day be worthy of the task of guarding the Royal Family. But despite being his daughter, Impa did not receive any favor from her trainer and might have even endured more discipline than any of his other students.

When Sheik joined in the training, Impa at first had her doubts. He seemed too weak and skinny and his vision was impaired because of his mask. But it did not impede his ability to See.

As a master illusionist, her father tested each of the young trainees in the art of Seeing by either concealing an object or producing false images around it. Impa had hated it, because even though all she felt like she was doing was squinting her eyes while trying to see things or through them, it was so draining. It was especially embarrassing when going through the training courses, because sometimes she would fall through a floor that wasn't actually there or fail to see a shortcut through an illusory wall. Sheik though, bounded through the courses with such ease compared to his companions, who were nervously making each step. Where he had trouble with the physical exercises, he made up for it with his magical ability.

It was slightly unfair to the other students, because the two friends were an enormous help to one another. Impa's steel and Sheik's shadows made for a perfectly complementary partnership, and they taught each other. Perhaps it was symbolic of their relationship overall, as it seemed they had a deep friendship that was difficult to describe with words alone.

Although that was true, she felt as though every day she was realizing all the more that she knew nothing about him. She knew all too well the sad, introspective Sheik staring off into the distance or silently listening to the Gossip stones or holding his chest with a clenched hand. The Sheik beyond the mask was a complete stranger.

"How old are you?" Impa asked him as they walked the graveyard together, holding bunches of flowers to lay on the graves.

"Why?" he asked as he brushed the dark hair that had fallen over the black eye holes of his mask.

"I realized that I don't really know. We look the same age, but you seem like you're learning a lot of this training for the first time. When a Sheikah turns sixteen, he has to pass the test in the Shadow Temple to receive his coming-of-age ceremony. That's when he receives the mark of his tribe. My sister and brother already did. They're serving the King, now." She lifted her head a little, as if she were proud of the association.

"And how old are you, Impa?"

"Fourteen. And you?"

"I am actually unsure. Well- my clan didn't have the custom of celebrating birthdays as we do here, so I must have forgotten." He was always very calm when he spoke about his tribe. She was often so curious about how he lived his life, but it was seldom that he spoke of it.

"I see." She watched as Sheik very intentionally brushed off the dust from the stone surface of a tombstone and laid down a white flower. Then she asked him another question. "Are you sad to be here? To be the last of your tribe? Is that why you cry when you are by yourself?"

The silence then was very odd, and Impa noticed it immediately.

"I… I am sorry, I don't know."

Impa bit back a comment, wondering how that could be, and looked at him with some suspicion.

In the end though, he kept his secrets.

* * *

When Sheik looked upon the well, there was a unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the words of her mentor long ago. When she closed her eyes, she tried to imagine the lonely house with the lonely man who could See, the house of the one who was her namesake.

But there was something unmistakably evil, a presence so twisted and sad that it made her skin tingle. When she looked down in the clear waters, she hooked her index finger over the lip of her scarf and pulled it down so that she could see her whole face in her reflection, looking at those false crimson irises and the artificially bronze skin as she dared to allow herself that brief moment of exposure.

"By the oath that binds you to me, I command you," the last of the Royal Family whispered over the waters, feeling how moment by moment the seal Impa had placed there was losing its power. "Stay sleeping in the shadows… there is nothing left for you in the world above."

The presence stirred slightly, as if stirring in an unsettled sleep, and she felt the creature's humane sadness, realizing that it was longing for the day the Hero would finally lay him to an eternal rest.

* * *

She had been the only eligible candidate of her class that year, and so she was to enter the Shadow Temple alone. To earn her marks, she had to find the deepest sanctum of the Temple and offer her prayer. The risks and challenges of the Temple had been kept secret, so that only those who had entered during their coming-of-age knew what dangers lay in that darkness. Rumors always floated amongst the candidates that it was a fearsome place, a house of the dead that always beckoned to living towards that eternal slumber…

But after earning her marks, she too, would be among the echelon of the elite, who passed down the most sacred knowledge of Hyrule, the Truth of the world, the reality of the gods… those stories that had been protected by the Sheikah since the creation.

Impa stood at the balcony that overlooked the graveyard, at the center of the circle of torches that flickered orange in a ghostly dance. The elders of the villagers stood behind her in a line, their arms crossed and marked faces solemn. She wore no cloak, simply the armor closely fitted against her skin and the single saber strapped on her back. Her fear was smothering, because she knew that if she failed to See, even just for a moment, it could cost her life. She closed her eyes and tried to listen to the voices of the dead, the ones she had listened to in the cemetery even as a little girl.

"May the Truth protect you always."

If she were to turn around and look over the balcony's balustrade, into the graveyard, she might have been able to see the group of villagers gathered there, where he was among them, waiting. She remained still as she gazed down the dark passageway, took a deep breath and plunged in.

The secrets of the temple could not be retold. As was the expectation, she never told another soul of what terrors she saw there until the day the princess chose to adopt the Sheikah way to escape the clutches of the Evil King.

* * *

 

He crumpled suddenly during their nighttime travels towards Hyrule Castle. As she came up to his side, she saw how he clutched his chest, the veins in the back of his hand protruding out of his whitened knuckles. He was breathing heavily, and she could sense as if he were holding back just crying out with the pain.

It had been a long time since he had experienced this sort of a spasm. Impa panicked in the privacy of her mind and placed both hands on his shoulders. He attempted to bat her aside with his free arm, but she resolutely remained close him, listening carefully to the sound of his breathing. When the pain did not appear to subside, she began digging through her pouch, her fingers searching for the glass bottle.

The red liquid inside sloshed against the sides as she took it out and pulled the cork out. Sheik shook his head and said something about saving their provisions, but she so forcibly put the mouth of the bottle against the mask that he stopped fighting and took the potion willingly from her with his trembling hands.

When his color partly returned, she took the bottle back from him and held onto his arm, trying to read his masked face.

"It's your time to rest."

"No… we have to hurry… there's not much time…" he protested, but she squeezed his arm and shook her head firmly.

"Don't say anything. Just a few hours, and I'm tired too. Please.. let's sleep."

Even without being able to see his face, she could sense that he was deeply troubled.

"All right."

When they found a safe place, they lay down close to each other in the shadows. Morning was still a few hours away, the insects of the night still robust in their singing as the trees rustled all around them.

She pretended to sleep by fighting the coughs and keeping absolutely still, her back towards her companion as she stared into the distance. When she had waited long enough to ensure that Sheik had fallen asleep, Impa slowly sat up and looked over her shoulder.

He lay curled in his dark cloak, his mask still secure over his face. She watched him as he slept, trying to overcome the myriad of emotions within her as she looked on and repeated her father's words in her mind. He trusted her. It would be so easy.

And ever so slowly she reached out her trembling hand, and it hovered over his dark hair and his pointed ears, over that scarlet eye that perpetually hid his features. One deft movement, and she could be able to see what she had longed to see since she was a girl. Impa imagined his face, though severely scarred, to be wonderful to look at. She always imagined his eyes glowing with tears as he smiled gently.

He stirred and turned his head slightly in his sleep, causing the mask to come slightly askew. Impa's eyes traced his bare jaw down to an exposed chin below the lower lip, where his dark skin shone against the moonlight. Then her conscience got the better of her and she lay back down, wondering if this was what it was like to experience heartbreak.

 


	2. Huic ergo parce, Deus

_Huic ergo parce, Deus_

* * *

After she emerged from the Temple, eyes darkened and now less of a child than when she first entered, the ceremony she received was plain and too solemn. Her father, without any gleam of pride or even recognition in his eyes, recited the vows she had to repeat. The old wise woman spoke the deep, ancient magic of the Sheikah. There was no one left alive who remembered how old she was, but for as long as anyone could remember, this had been her sacred task.

She placed her wrinkled hands over Impa's face, her thumbs pressed firmly against her closed eyes. Impa could feel how the woman's flesh seemed liquid, how the skin seemed to flow over the bony fingers effortlessly. Then there was a great, shuddering pain as the woman dragged her thumbs down, moving in a crescent from the tear ducts, rounding the girl's cheekbones until she reached the outer corner of her eyes.

As she stepped back into the light of the cemetery, the shadows speaking to her more fervently than they ever had before, there were whitish marks like sharp wings stretched out beneath her eyes: the mark of her tribe. She was a warrior of the Sheikah, a slave and a knight of the Royal family.

* * *

The castle was in full view a few hours later, and they could already see the banners rippling in the wind. Tents formed a barricade around the outer castle walls, boldly colored in gleaming whites and navy blues. Scarlet Hylian eagles with the golden triforce were patterned on every crest and flag.

Seeing the Hylian camp allowed Impa the luxury of relief for the time being. They had rested more than anticipated, but Sheik's health had stabilized and she felt a little less congested. They were crouching hidden and silent in the shadow of the trees beyond, watching and planning their next course of action.

"They have not yet met in battle," Impa whispered to her companion. "But the Enemy must be near. We must destroy the Weapon before they have the chance to use it against us."

Sheik stirred slightly behind her, though he moved so quietly she chose not to take note of it. She kept her scarf close to her nose and felt the slight pang of regret deepen the longer she looked on. For the thousandth time, she wished that she had been chosen to fight among the other Sheikah warriors, with her brother and sister. It was a privilege to be hand-chosen and sent on a task as crucial as theirs, but there was a special honor in being able to fight in battle. She wondered if her siblings were there even now, walking among the Hylians' tents, faithfully serving and waiting to cross blades with the enemy.

But perhaps it was better this way, she tried to tell herself as she muffled a cough behind her scarf. She would not be as much a hindrance as she would be on the battlefield, as sick as she was, and with Sheik beside her, they were invisible. Surely, they would carry out their mission without fail.

At the thought, she turned slightly, guiltily remembering her own secret task.

Then, as if he had known that she was thinking of him, Sheik beckoned quietly to her.

"Impa." Startled, she glanced back at him. He was now standing, completely turned away from her. His voice was strange.

"What is it?"

He didn't turn to face her, but rather lifted a hand to point above them, into the trees.

Very, very slowly, she got to her feet.

Just a couple yards away from Sheik's pointing index finger, a pair of feet dangled. Then as she increased the field of her focus with widening eyes, she saw more feet, swaying lifelessly in among the foliage.

_They seem so light_ , Impa thought numbly. She saw the sleepy looks on their expressions, which seemed right because no Sheikah truly fears death. They were her kith clearly, with the splashes of white spreading out from beneath their staring scarlet eyes. She even recognized her brother among them, his handsome features sad and noble. Long hair flowed gently in the wind, wrapping his body like a silvery white shroud. His face was marred by a single stripe of blood running straight down the middle of his face, and the others had the same. Their killers' signatures.

The longer they stared at the hanging warriors, the more Impa felt emptied of her courage. She had only been ten years old when he had completed his coming-of-age ceremony and left the village. Impa had always thought of him as someone so strong and reliable. She remembered how all the girls of Kakariko idolized him and how he pat her gently on the head, how he smiled reassuringly and called her baby sister without any condescension.

Something shining fell to the ground in front of her, and she tore her gaze away from the gruesome sight to see what it had been. She just barely managed to catch a glimpse of another tear as it fell from under Sheik's mask, but it vanished immediately, swallowed up by the ground.

Impa touched his shoulder lightly as she herself fought tears, feeling ashamed by them.

"Let's go."

* * *

Impa traced the wood paneling along the wall, vaguely concentrating, leaking magic through her fingertips. The color changed slightly, darkening under her touch as if a flame had drawn too close to it. Suddenly, a dark scarlet shape blossomed out on the wood, spreading out, gaining other colors. Haughtily she threw a glance over her shoulder and scowled.

"I don't need you to show off to me," she said, but not all too angrily. The wall returned to normal instantly. Sheik watched her guiltily from on top of his bed, peering over the book he had been supposedly reading. His mask loomed over it, pale in the dark room. Truthfully, it still scared her sometimes.

"I won't be taking the test next year," the boy said quietly, as if he had been pondering it the whole time they were sitting together. She was astonished.

"What?"

"The test in the Shadow Temple."

"Why?" It made her anxious. Even if they were not permitted to take the test together, the fact that she would be the only one taking it at all made her feel very lonely.

"I…" She knew he was trying to rapidly think up some sort of a story, but he eventually settled for the truth. That seemed right. "Your father won't let me."

"What?" Impa was a little angry at this. "Why not?"

"I'm not a part of your tribe."

"But that's not fair!" Impa sat up straight, glaring at him as if it were his fault. "You've been taught our ways, haven't you? You've been training with us, haven't you?"

"Yes, well…" he put down the book and lay down, and she suspected it was so he didn't have to look directly at her. "There are secrets that have been carried down from you people that I have no right to know."

She was upset, but kept her face carefully smooth and maintained as casual a silence as she could. He knew her too well to be fooled though.

"Do you…" he hesitated. "Do you want to hear of the secrets of my people?"

Although she recognized this immediately as an attempt to mollify her, her curiosity ultimately triumphed.

"But you said…"

"It doesn't matter… anymore. At least someone else should know these things."

"Tell me," she said, and drew closer to the bed, folding her arms on top of it. Her hand was just inches away from his head. There was a short pause, and then he began to speak without even sitting up.

"All Sheikah know the story of the golden goddesses, how the world was created, that they left behind an inheritance, filling the world with Light. But my people tell a story of what came before even then."

Impa opened her mouth to say something, but then immediately closed it, realizing she did not want to give him any sort of excuse as to stop telling his tale.

"Before Light, there was Darkness, and in the beginning, there was nothing but Darkness, and it was there even before Light was there. Although light conquers shadow, there is something older, more ancient and permanent about Darkness. So when Light came in, it was bound to the Dark, like a twin or a reflection, never to be separated from it."

The words felt like raindrops falling into a deep, dark pool, stirring her with such ease that it made her think she was always meant to feel this way. As he continued to tell the tale, she became more aware of the old magic there. It was deep within her and seemed to creak open like it had been unlocked, though she was not quite sure what it was.

She was thinking on it, feeling it, prodding it long after he had stopped talking.

* * *

She sat with the lens in her hand, revolving it between her fingers and thumb absentmindedly. Then, raising it to her eye, she peered through it and Saw.

* * *

Somehow, thought Impa as she sliced through the woman's throat without remorse, every time she killed someone, the lingering image of the corpses among the trees touched upon her mind like an unexpected aftertaste. The woman coughed, gurgling blood as she fell and died. Her face stared up at the sky, the two crimson marks of the Enemy camouflaged by the spatters on her cheeks.

Impa flicked her blade, littering thick flecks onto the forest floor. By now, the grief had subsided into anger, but careful to control her emotions as her training had taught her, she only allowed it to show through the uncharacteristic sharpness of her movements.

Sheik seemed to recognize this, because he was even more quiet than usual. There were three bodies on the ground around them now, sprawled in morbidly twisted positions.

Further off in the wood, they could hear the sounds of fighting. Moving towards the direction of the noise, the soon came in time to find two other Sheikah warriors fighting against three of the Enemy.

Now outnumbered and overpowered, their opponents were quickly slain and crumpled to the forest floor. As Impa glanced at one of the newcomers, she recognized the mark of the Kakariko Sheikah before she recognized the face. It took her a little longer to do the latter, but when she did, there was a pang of remorse, rather than a jolt of excitement. She had not expected to meet her siblings so soon, not like this.

"Impa!" The woman clasped her by the shoulders and looked her full on, taking in the sight of her, of the marks that proved her coming-of-age. Aiza was much prettier than her - her skin lighter, her hair a more pale gold than Impa's ivory. Her high cheekbones seemed to display the white wings beneath her eyes more proudly, and her expression was pristinely impassive and yet pleased at the same time.

"Aiza," Impa said, her voice stuffy with sickness and with held-back emotion. "Emeth is dead."

Apparently, her older sister was also better at keeping a level face, because no sign of surprise or sadness came upon her at the news of their brother. Instead, Aiza stared so deeply into Impa's eyes that she might have seen the image of Emeth reflected there, that dignified young man hanging under the trees, his face slashed open and yet lovely.

"We were afraid of this," Aiza replied, but Impa knew that she was deeply moved by the confirmation. "His group was supposed to come back with information yesterday night. Are you all right, Impa?"

Wanting desperately to be comforted, but resolutely refusing to show any weakness, Impa swallowed heavily and gave a faint nod.

"I'm fine." To distract herself, she glanced over at her sister's companion, a very skinny man with a navy blue diamond on his left cheek. At the same time, Aiza seemed to observe Sheik carefully.

"Where are you two going?" she asked, not bothering to question the identity or nature of her younger sister's masked associate.

"There is something we must do. Is the enemy's camp close to here?"

"We have been spying on it for days." Aiza gestured behind her, towards the south. "They are arrogant, and keep everything in view, as if to taunt us. There is a large box that they carry by two poles, and they always keep it on display. Sometimes we see them bowing down to it, treating it as if it were a throne to seat a god. Their leader is a man that they now call a king."

Sheik stiffened, but it was a movement so subtle only Impa could catch it from the corner of her eye. She herself found her fist tightening.

"Thank you," Impa said to her sister as she replaced her scarf to cover her face. "We will be going then. Farewell." Without another word, the pair dashed off into the wood, to the Enemy.

* * *

When the messenger of the Royal Family arrived in Kakariko village to deliver the news of war and an appeal for the Sheikah's age-old loyalty to the crown, it had only been a week since Impa had received her marks. She had been in Sheik's company at that moment; they were practicing their illusory charms in the yard among the cuccos.

The man who had come from the city was an arrogant young soldier who evidently felt that he was entitled to more than just relaying news. As he galloped into the village on his garishly white horse, Sheik had clutched his chest and Impa did not fail to notice.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not yet."

The Hylian messenger seemed extremely uncomfortable being in the village, unaccustomed to the Sheikah and their ways. There was a perpetual scowl planted on the man's face, as if he strongly disapproved or mistrusted the darker-skinned people here, for all their strange rituals and traditions.

When later he revealed that the enemy were the Enemy, Impa was able to forgive the foreigner only partly for his rude behavior. After all, it was now Sheikah men and women they were to meet in war, even if they had turned away from the most sacred ways. She imagined them, twisted and evil, marching towards Hyrule Castle, to the Temple of Time, to claim the beacon and ancient power of the goddesses with their illegitimate magic, the very same power they had once sworn to protect.

The village elder then proceeded to divide the tasks of all the people. Though perhaps not all were fully fledged Sheikah warriors, all had been trained and would be expected to serve in this time of need. Impa realized that her journey to Hyrule Castle would come much sooner than she had expected. But she was more concerned, at the moment however, for Sheik, who had not stopped clutching his chest. She sensed a wild kind of fear rising from within him.

This heightened when her father surprised her by pulling Sheik aside for a private word. They talked for so long that Impa grew impatient and left to go home on her own.

Her father returned much later, when she was listening to a Gossip stone to kill the time. She raised her head and watched as he unclasped his cloak and hung it by the door. He did nothing to disguise his weariness, and she could see the darkness under his eyes.

He sat down and rubbed his face with both hands, and very curious, Impa came and sat next to him, crossing her arms. She had expected him to say something when she did, but in her impatience, she found she could not wait very long for him to initiate the conversation.

"Father, am I leaving tomorrow?"

He observed her then, and she noticed the lines in his face for the first time.

"Yes."

She said nothing to this, as if waiting for something else. When he kept his silence, she heaved herself back onto her feet and turned to go to her room to pack her things.

"Sit down, Impa," he ordered, and as if he had forced himself to his usually proper composure, he spoke with his stern instructor's voice. She glanced at him curiously and obeyed, re-crossing her arms as she sat.

"Our enemy is using powerful, ancient magic and has created a weapon. You will have a very special mission to destroy it, and so you will not be riding to battle with us."

She kept her expression consistent and refused to let the surprise and apprehension show on her face.

"What must I do?"

* * *

The princess sat on the topmost rung of the stepladder, leaning against the bookshelf so as not to lose her balance. She placed the lantern on the shelf, rested her chin in her palm and peeled open the book to read.

Something her caretaker had told her about the great Civil War had intrigued her. Although she was a pure Hylian by blood, with her golden hair and truly blue eyes, she had a premonition that she had a connection to the shadow people that was more than just her affiliation with Impa. As she streaked a finger down the pages, searching the text, she finally rested on a header that remarked upon the Great Separation of the Sheikah. Following the words with her finger, she read at a whisper.

"The Interlopers comprised of an alliance between different clans, each boasting powerful dark magic. Opposing their loyal brethren and betraying the ways of the Sheikah, they plotted to claim the Sacred Realm and the divine Triforce. There are many dark rumors surrounding the Interlopers, particularly in the early days after the Great Division when great fear of shadow magic arrested all of Hyrule. Some of the more sinister reports indicate that the sorcerers were so deeply involved in their art that they even subjected their own children to their dabbling, leading to gross biological mutilations that often proved lethal. However, any secrets of the ancient art had been long lost after the Hyrulean Civil War, and have since been left forbidden and unpracticed. Indeed, even the illusory magic of the Sheikah tribe is presently on the verge of extinction, with very few living survivors left to pass on its teachings."

The princess did not understand anything about shadows and darkness, but in the recesses of her mind, an image prodded at her. She attempted to physically imagine what it was. There was another plane of existence, a world in between, a reality between light and shadow, perhaps? Oh… it was something too abstract. Reaching out to it felt nostalgic. It was so familiar, but something forgotten, or perhaps something not yet encountered?

She shut the tome with a shudder, and slipped it back on the shelf. Perhaps it was something to be considered in a different lifetime, but not now.

* * *

The Box looked like it was made of a glassy black stone. It was rectangular and large enough to fit a couple crouching bodies side by side. There were very strange designs all along its faces, straight, parallel lines that showed no curves, but bent at ninety-degree angles. The cover of the box was stranger still, and looked as if four curled horns drew up from the very top of it.

It was heavily guarded, and even from where the two of them sat in the trees, they could see what Aiza had been talking about. Twice a day at twilight, the Enemy gathered before the box and bowed down, their chanting and muttering audible even from the distance. Their king was a prominent man. His skin was very dark and his head was bald, his heavily-lidded eyes painted with black, the tear-shaped Sheikah marks long and crimson on his face. He was powerful, with magic as intimidating as his appearance.

"Will you be able to cloak us with your magic?" Impa asked Sheik hopefully while eying the Enemy's leader as he sauntered around the Box, beckoning his people to wail louder. Her voice dry as she held her breath to prevent a coughing fit.

Sheik pondered this, watching as the warriors cried out and bowed down in waves.

"I am unsure. Many of them most likely have the ability to See."

Impa had suspected this, but she had hoped that they might have strayed too far from the divine ways of the Sheikah to still harbor that discipline. For all she had been told, the Enemy were closer to monsters than Sheikah.

"We shall have to try. If we move fast enough, we may be able to destroy the Weapon before they see us."

The last word had barely left her lips when Sheik sharply inhaled and clutched at his chest. He swayed on his branch so precariously that she snatched the folds of his cloak at his neck. With his free hand, he grasped her hand with such ferocity and speed that she almost gasped in surprise.

"What-"

"Impa," he spoke with great effort. His usually calm voice was strained to the point of breaking. "Do you remember what I told you?"

"What?" Impa repeated, focusing all her efforts towards not crying out against his crushing grip.

"Long ago, of the secret knowledge of my people, of Light and Darkness…" His words were barely discernable and incoherent, but she knew exactly what he was talking about. She could never forget.

"Yes, Sheik." The memory strangely calmed her. "Yes, I remember."

His fingers slackened, and Impa knew that she would find a bruise on her hand within the next few hours. He was breathing heavily again, his hand digging into the spot over his heart. Why, now, after so many years, was his childhood sickness returning? Was it the stress of the war?

"We'll have to try to get to it tonight," Impa said, her own heart sinking with the realization. "After sundown, we will try to destroy it."

* * *

The princess was very good at shadow magic, to Impa's wonder and pleasure. The way she applied the glamour spell to herself was so elegant, so royal.

The stranger now stood in front of her, halfway in shadow, face shielded by a curtain of gold hair, scarlet irises masterfully hiding the native deep blue behind them. The new posture and countenance was sterner, the muscles beneath the Sheikah armor firm, with just the touch of masculinity in their leanness. When the stranger spoke, it carried all the authority and gentleness of the original person, and yet maintained the warm tenor tones of a young man.

Impa had told her protégé everything of the Sheikah, even the old secrets passed down through her tribe, the ancient stories that only those who have braved the dangers of the Shadow Temple were privy to knowing- of the Sheikah ways of life, of their mantra and most sacred obligation.

But when she attempted to relay the story of the Darkness, the most ancient tale by far, she could not, as if a spell bound her, forced her to keep it hidden from all those outside of the blood.

"We will be equals now, Impa," the young princess (or, perhaps, the young warrior) declared, and it was so strange. "I am a survivor of the Sheikah."

"What shall you be called, my brother?" The older woman asked, a slight smile playing on her dark lips as she crossed her arms and regarded the young man with renewed appraisal. Then she was taken aback when she heard his name.

It was like the sound of her people's name, but incomplete, not whole. For a brief moment, the kind princess beneath the stern warrior flickered as she mistook Impa's surprise as distaste and hastily apologized.

"I'm sorry Impa, that was insensitive of me. I just thought… well… never mind. Is there a different name I shall use?"

The princess had not forgotten, after all, the stories her Royal nursemaid once told her, though it had been years since then, since that last time she had spoken his name too. Impa could feel a rush of gratitude, and she sank into a deep bow.

"A splendid choice. I am very pleased."

* * *

The night that Impa entered the Shadow Temple, Sheik had been waiting in the cemetery like all the other villagers. Each of them held a lantern in a hand, offering prayers on behalf of their child, for protection and blessings.

It was after midnight when they began to play the drums. They said it was to appease the spirits of the dead, to mimic the sound of a heart that had ceased its beating.

It made him feel sick. He wanted to scream, to run, to hide in the shadows where he belonged. He managed to slip away, cloaking himself in the night, in his own art, running as he had done for his whole life.

He was so sorry. He wanted so much to throw off his mask, to dash it under his feet, to find freedom at last.

But his chains were within, constricted him, and like a living thing it beat with the same rhythm of his own heart, like the rhythm of the drums. When he touched the spot, other memories flashed across his thoughts. The one-time touch of a father, the darkness and the excruciating pain. The seed had been planted, festering and growing. But he was the expert warden. He had done very well for all these years.

Sheik found himself in the doorway of his own house, that temporary shell of a home that had still felt more like a home than anywhere else.

And yet, the memories here plagued him more than the ones from before his rebirth and acceptance into this village. Feelings of happiness and of love, when tainted by incompleteness and guilt, were worse than the feelings of hopelessness and hatred.

But she had been satisfied with even the very little he could offer. With a bitter smile under the mask, he thought of how, in truth, she knew nothing about him. And yet somehow she had  _known_  him. The hours and the summer days they had spent together, even sometimes in extended silences, had been the most complete. Even with the knowledge of what was to come, with what he was carrying, he had allowed himself that one pleasure.

But he had not dared to go further. Because once they had the chance to hate and love, to  _really_  know each other, it would be too late.

That was his greatest regret.


	3. Dona eis requiem

 

_Dona eis requiem  
Amen._

* * *

 

  
"After you destroy the Shadow Magic, you must then also kill Sheik."

Impa remembered how horrifying the command was, and how she had neglected to not allow it to show on her face.

_"Why?"_

"He will consider it a mercy. When you remove his mask, you will understand."

* * *

They crept to the outskirts of the camp later that night when the sun fell and the sky had darkened to a deep blue. The smoke from the fire floated steadily from the center and tall shadows were cast against the rosy light. The Box was still there, still ominous and cold, for all the worship and adoration it had received that day.

As soon as they stepped through the first ring of tents, Impa felt the shadow magic enveloping her. It always felt something like velvet upon the skin when Sheik did it. Whenever she attempted the illusory spells, it felt like a soft, but incessant hum against the skin, eventually leaving an itchy, unpleasant feeling all over. Thus cloaked, they swiftly glided their way through, passing by a few enemy soldiers on the way.

It unnerved her to see so many of the Enemy in one place, their crimson marks running down from their eyes. She tried to feel a hatred for them, remember what they had done to her brother and his comrades. To her dismay, she instead experienced a hollow sense of pity when she saw the painted eye on the doorway flap to every tent.

_They are Sheikah, like we are._

Impa shook her head resolutely as they made their way past a single sentry who stared right through them.  _No, they are the fallen. They are the enemy._

The two warriors took shelter behind one of the last tents before the open courtyard where the Box rested. They took a quick moment to look around, surveying the layout and the rhythm of the sentries' paces.

"We will have to open it, somehow," Sheik said to her after a few moments, his voice so soft she might have heard it inside of her head. "The lid looks very heavy. We must be swift."

"We can use the bombs," Impa added. She touched the bag hanging by her side where she could feel the round bulges protruding against the leather. They watched on again for a little while, straining in the darkness, trying to formulate a plan.

"All right, here's what we'll do. We'll try to get there as swiftly and invisibly as we can. Once we are close enough, I'll strike the starter, and we'll blow open the lid. I can take care of any of the enemy that hears the sound and comes at us, but you go in and destroy the weapon. After that, we will flee as fast as we can, using your illusions."

It sounded like such a feeble plan. It suddenly made her aware exactly how small and helpless she was.

_How proud I had been, to immediately think that we could surely do this, even with his power._  She glanced anxiously at him, but was unable to glean his thoughts on the manner.

"I think it'll work," he told her, and she allowed herself to be reassured. Flicking open the clasp on her bomb bag, she found the flint and readied a fuse.

"On my count. One… two…"

* * *

"The Kingdom owes you and your people the greatest thanks and the deepest condolences. Speak any request, Impa of the Sheikah, and it will be granted to you."

The human thing was to despise him and the nation he ruled. It was his own decree that had resulted in the very thing for which he was now offering his condolences. But she was far above that now.

She kneeled motionless in the throne room, her face still dirtied, her hair still smelling faintly of smoke. Her head bowed deeply, she kept her right hand in a fist over her chest, presenting the greatest respect to the King, newly crowned over all of Hyrule…

"My sole desire, your majesty, is to carry on the sacred task of my people. I beg to be entered into your service until my life's end."

* * *

When Impa came stumbling back into the camp, her forehead prickling and shoulder bleeding badly, everyone was readying for battle. She barely registered the clinking of armor, the hurried shouts and the suffocating, rushed tension. Her mind was still reeling with what she had seen. She coughed, both with exhaustion and her much neglected cold, but there was no quiet presence beside her to cast her a concerned glance now. This time, she was very much alone. In one hand, she held a strange, purple lens with a handle.

Aiza found her at the edge of the camp in that condition - staring around but not seeing anything, quite hurt, but not realizing the pain.

"Impa! What are you doing?" She sternly grabbed her sister by the wrist to pull a bloodstained hand away from the wounded shoulder.

"What?" Impa asked dumbly, but a corked flask of red potion was already being forced upon her.

"The King has signaled for us to ride. We are going to fight. They are coming."

When Impa said nothing, Aiza bristled as if there were complicated emotions within that she was attempting to stifle.

"The King has ordered that the Sheikah fight on the front lines. The Hylians have demanded it- it is our people, they say, that have endangered us. It is our responsibility to lead the charge to atone for the crimes of the Enemy."

"Yes," the younger intoned distantly after taking a drink, like one who had already become resigned. She had wanted to fight alongside her own siblings and people, but now that it was her reality, it seemed so very unremarkable.

Aiza was about to say more when an outcry rang out in the distance. The sisters glanced around to see Sheikah warriors and Hylian soldier's alike gasping, shouting and pointing towards the horizon where the sun's morning rays began to peek over the tops of the tents. Then, suddenly, there was the Shadow.

Impa's heart wrenched at the sight, and a dizziness overcame her. The Shadow was like a giant spider on the horizon, blocking out the influences of the early sunlight, leaving spots in her vision. It was too familiar now.

"I failed," she said, testing the weight of those words on her tongue as she said them. The numbness of the betrayal made her mind slower than her injury or sickness did. Aiza turned to look full into Impa's face, which was now pale with despair, the crest of her cheeks tinged with a hot, sickly orange underneath the white wings.

"Will you fight with us?"

Very slowly, Impa nodded. There was still time for her to fulfill her second mission.

* * *

"What is Truth?" Impa asked the God. His body was still there, laying in her arms, his blood and hers covering them like a warm mantle. Her people were around them, broken like porcelain dolls. The others that were still alive had been banished, to that world between day and night. Perhaps she was the last of their kind. "Is it beautiful or cruel?"

The God held the mirror in perfect hands, and the Light was too glorious for her to bear. She held the dark crystal close to her chest, and wept bitterly.

* * *

With more blood on her hands than ever before, Impa knew somehow that he would be there, beneath the shadow of the Shadow magic, which seemed so natural a place for him. As those immense many arms shone like twilight and stretched out to destroy more of her people, as the white horses and Hylian men behind them drew back in fear, she ran towards it more resolutely, leaving Aiza behind, killing all the red-tear streaked men who had the misfortune to get in her way.

As she dodged steel and took in the stench of magic and blood, she allowed the shadows to guide her in the midst of the growing darkness. Though the fear of death was far beyond her now, there was a definite kind of fear that staggered her. When she dared to look at the Shadow and its extended arms, taking out whole armies of charging Sheikah at a time, she saw something wholly unnatural, wholly other.

Then she remembered how Sheik had gazed upon that crown, that strange sense of longing and revulsion so evident in his stance.

So her heart both leaped and lurched when she realized that her instincts had been correct. He was there after all, standing as a captive among the Interlopers, his face shining in the midst of that darkness. His face…

With her blade glowing, she slipped between the masses of dying men and screaming warriors before she could lose her resolve, her eyes focused only on that figure. And in dream-like quality, the battle raged all around as she traversed the distance between them. Her white hair unfurled and flew behind her like a flickering hot flame.

When she was close enough, she killed the two Interlopers standing closest to him. He must have known that she was close, because when the men fell and died by her hand, he looked very deliberately at her, his blood-colored eyes meeting her own.

Time slowed as he smiled that heart-shattering smile that she had always imagined him having. But there were no tears glistening on his tainted cheek. He rather looked very happy. He was radiant.

"I knew it would be you," he said so quietly that only she could have heard. Then she plunged the shimmering point into his chest, and plunged herself into darkness.

* * *

When the bombs exploded, Impa turned just in time to light another fuse and throw it towards the oncoming guards. As they scattered, she saw Sheik pull off the remains of the partially blasted lid from the corner of her eye. There was a shout being raised all though the camp as lights turned on in the tents.

Impa threw a round of deku nuts to stun the first guards that had reacted to her bomb. As she charged forward to make strategic thrusts with her saber, she realized that the window of time that they had to finish their work and make a successful escape was narrowing at a terrifying rate.

"Sheik!" she shouted, frustrated that he was taking so long to do his part when she was the one fending off their enemies. She caught him staring down at the item in the box, motionless. He was a white mask floating in the dimness, frozen as if in fear. Impa gave the object a quick glance, and noticed something like a crown-or was it a helmet? It was fused together with something that looked like armor.

Realizing she had looked away too long, she gasped and turned back around to make up for her potentially fatal mistake. But instead of finding hundreds of the Enemy running in for the kill, she was shocked to see them crouched on bended knee, their weapons discarded on the ground.

"Sheik!" Impa shouted again, and turned angrily. "You have to destroy it now! What are -"

Then she saw him, his bald head floating beside the white mask, his hand lightly placed upon Sheik's trembling shoulder. He was smiling a cold, fearsome smile. Impa froze.

"It is very familiar to you, is it not?"

Sheik said nothing, but she knew him well enough to know that he was terrified. A cold trickle ran down the length of her back. The bald king was even more savage, more  _heathen_ up close. He seemed older, and yet the cosmetics gave him a feminine cast that artificially suggested youth. His darkened eyes and red-streaked cheeks stood out on that impossibly dark skin.

But what was more frightening was the sense of familiarity between the two men.

Impa felt the grip on her blade slacken. Without paying the slightest bit of attention to Impa, the king of the enemy rounded the Box, his long fingers tracing its damaged edge, his eyes fixed on the masked youth. He seemed to be looking straight through him.

"It is still buried within you… and you managed to survive. How extraordinary. I would be very fascinated to see what it has now become."

"Sheik?" Impa whispered at last. She wished she hadn't, because the king then shifted his gaze onto her, his eyes staring straight through hers. Then, a nasty, thin smile spread across his alien features as he reached into the box to caress one of the four prongs of the crown inside.

Sheik screamed in agony, clutching at his chest and dropping to the ground on his knees. It was different from his usual spasms of pain - the way he held himself now seemed to suggest that he was trying to contain something rather than staunch the pain. The King seemed mildly surprised at this response, but continued to finger the weapon, the slim smile still playing on his lips.

"This has always been your destiny. Even in this twisted existence you have been living - it has not escaped you. Is not proper, for you to come on the eve of our victory? To fight for us, to serve the very powers of darkness that own you and own us?" Sheik sank lower into the ground as Impa flew across the dais to sink her blade into the man's body.

Immediately, she felt something hit her in the shoulder so hard that she found herself flying back and hitting the ground. Her neck twisted as her head made too much friction against the smooth stone floor as her saber clattered across the other side of the dais uselessly. There was a feathered shaft of a large arrow sticking up from between her shoulder guard and breastplate. The enemy warrior who had shot it was only just behind the King, his bow drawn with another arrow.

Then the next part happened so quickly that Impa was barely able to witness it for herself. The King hoisted the crown-like item from the Box, high over his head and shouted a strange and foreign war cry to his people, who roared back, their weapons raised in the air. Then, like he was possessed by another force, he pulled it down over himself until it swallowed him whole.

As immediate as the enormous cry for battle had risen out, an immense silence fell across the camp as the man writhed and bubbled from the inside out. There was something like echoing laughter from the inside of the crown, a psychotic, uncontrollable laughter that made all the hair on Impa's scalp stand on end. They all watched in that silence as the Shadow appeared before their eyes, the King no longer recognizably human.

Remembering her mission, and frantic with the reality that they were about to see the Weapon in all of its power against them, Impa snapped the shaft of the arrow and threw it aside, unable to register the pain for all the adrenaline coursing through her veins. At this point, the monster that was the king convulsed grotesquely, like globs of oil suspended in water, and to her horror, it lashed out at her with a long arm. She sensed a dangerous power there, enough to swallow her whole in eternal, impenetrable darkness…

If she had not been so afraid, she would have been annoyed to find herself on the ground again after being roughly shoved out of the way. Her shoulder throbbed as she attempted to roll to her feet in a slower than usual recovery, and she coughed blood and phlegm into her hand as something hit her lightly on the leg.

Sheik's back stood between her and the Shadow, his arm still thrown back from the motion of pushing her away. The Shadow had grown so large now, and her friend seemed like a force of darkness in himself, his skin shining, his cloak rippling as the Shadow above reared back slightly.

She was confused for a moment, because she thought she saw a hint of the Shadow within him as well. And yet, there was a strange peace about him as he turned to look back at her and make sure she was all right. At once, Impa realized what it was that had hit her on the leg. She knew it without having to look down-but she looked.

The mask was still teetering face-up on the ground, the painted eye staring up at her, that symbol of Truth which had been used to cover up such a great lie.

Because when she saw him for the very first time, taking in every color and detail of his face, she realized she had been betrayed. She hardly moved, hardly breathed when he bent close to her to kiss her forehead and drop something heavy into her hand.

"Impa."

Then she felt the familiar, velvety cloak of his illusory magic covering over her, and she knew he was urging her to run for her life.

As she slipped away unnoticed, the enemy closed in on him, smashing his mask under their feet, taking him by the face and arms, giving a shout as they pointed to him, to the Shadow above them.

"To war! To victory! To war!"

The cries still rang in her ears as she fled towards Hyrule Castle, her hand still holding tightly onto the lens he had given her, her forehead still burning where he had touched her with his lips.

* * *

The older man seemed very tired, and regarded his masked ward gravely.

"Well?" he asked, and Sheik seemed to look back, undaunted, and replied.

"Time is short. Though I was my father's failed experiment in the dark arts, he has now managed to succeed in some other way and has made the ultimate weapon. The news of war tonight is a casual matter. It's the Sacred Realm that they seek-they will march toward Hyrule to claim it, with the most ancient magic of my people in their possession. But it is stronger now, darker."

"Are you sure?"

The young man touched his chest.

"Yes."

"Are you saying that it is your time that is short?" Impa's father was very shrewd. Sheik smiled and lowered his mask to look him in the eye, presenting his naked face to the heavens, unashamed.

"I'd rather that it be." Then, a gentle smile. "Thank you for your kindness for all of these years. To allow me a home in your village, with close association to your daughter… it has granted me new life."

They stood on the hill where they could overlook the rooftops of the village on one side, and the cold stone slabs of the cemetery tombstones on the other. They watched the quietness of Kakariko with great fondness, lost in memory and thought. The cold wind felt foreign and yet welcome on Sheik's bare cheek.

"When I was a child and I woke in the debris of my village, at the destruction and all the dead around me-when I realized what I had done, I never thought it was possible for me to live again. But you were the shield that covered me, you were that mask that hid me away for these years. You saved me then, and she will save me now. She's very special, you know. It's strange, because she thinks that I am the master of the shadows, but she is the one the shadows have chosen. The darkness speaks to her, understands her, and she understands it. I know that much. She will become very great."

When the man said nothing, the youth continued even more quietly. "I will help her to end this, once and for all. That is the last thing that I ask of you."

"I am sorry, Sheik."

He replaced his mask and looked up at the starry sky, his breath silky in the cold night air. He was just about to say that he was too, but the words changed in his mouth, and he himself was surprised by them.

"But I am not."

* * *

The Darkness was not as cold as she had thought it would be. It was warm, like the velvet of Sheik's illusory spells, blanketing every inch of her. She heard a faint drumming and the sounds of battle still raging around her, and straining to see through the blackness, she reached out and felt something soft and wet. The Darkness was coming from it, out like a cloud.

Then, there was something glowing. Not glowing as how light glowed, but glowing with a pulsating quality, still dark. When her ears finally registered the sound ringing out all around her, she realized that it was Sheik calling her name.

Frantic now, she touched the wet, soft thing, feeling something invisible and evil writhing beneath the blade she had thrust there. It was so very close, and the blackness continued to flood outward in a web-like quality, as it escaped, finally freeing itself from its carnal vessel.

Once freed, it roared all around her; she could feel its presence, though she could not see it. Someone close to her screamed, and she could hear how that person's flesh was ripped open by the new force. Blood and limbs spurted out, and close to that freshly killed man, another person vainly fought the invisible foe, only to meet a similarly gruesome fate that sprayed Impa with flecks of blood and other, more solid debris.

It was terrible, but Impa clung on, kneeling down, holding his body close, feeling the wetness against her cheek as if it would protect her. She knew that the other Shadow, the one that had been the interloping King and his ultimate weapon, was also still prowling the skies like a spider, thrashing, killing, destroying, just as the one that had been her best friend was now thrashing and killing and destroying…

The landscape around her blurred and the screaming faded, the metallic clash of metal becoming a light clink in the distance. Perhaps this is what dying was really like - like the fading away of a previous world, or like falling asleep. The unseen force was so close now, so evil and so familiar that she pressed herself down further than before.

"The lens, Impa!"

Her eyes snapped open. His cool hand seemed to brush against her ear, and she remembered.

Retrieving the lens from her satchel with shaking hands, she lifted to her eyes up and peered through it. She could catch glimpses of its dismembered hands, the glowing eye, and all around her there was drumming. It was an enormous monster, though smaller than the Shadow, and the aura around it made Impa shudder, because it reminded her too much of him. It was him - wasn't it?

It advanced on her, but she moved with trained reflexes and unloosened a dagger on her belt with great speed. When she threw it, her aim struck true, squarely in the glowing eye. The creature reared back and screeched.

Impa continued to hold onto her quarry, her eyes wide as she stared through the lens. Then she understood the Truth. That most ancient tale and Truth about Darkness and Light, he had told it to her for this very moment, hadn't he? This was the true nature of her second mission, wasn't it?

With her other hand, she stroked his hair, the blood making it thick and sticky. She dared to smile, and her voice came out in a sickly rasp.

"It will be all right."

Then she reached out into the Darkness with her free hand, feeling it, gathering it, and as it spoke an ancient, deep magic to her, she in turn spoke the word to command it, and it obeyed.

* * *

Impa knew immediately when the seal broke, because she felt a deep ache in her chest that she only remembered feeling when she thought about him.

When she arrived at the graveyard, the anticipation swept through her. There was no use in going to the well, because it was already obvious that the spirit had fled to the temple. She had no need to retrieve the lens either. She had completely mastered the Sight over all these years.

When she stood in front of the Temple entrance, she thought it was finally at long last that the seal had broken. These seven years, filled with the evil and dark magic of the King of the Desert, provided the ideal conditions for it. As she listened to the voices of the dead, she strained to hear the very faint drumming underground. The dead were urging her, beckoning her inside with greater desperation. She imagined herself at sixteen years, when she had entered this place for the first time, the fear and excitement overwhelming all her senses. It was strange, because since then she had made many vigils at the Temple with almost fond familiarity. Now, that fear had returned somewhat, though the marks gleamed on her cheek as she crossed the threshold.

_May the Truth protect you always._

Then, with speed only a Sheikah could boast, she slipped into the Shadow Temple, letting the voices guide her to where he was waiting.

* * *

A light pierced through the Shadow, falling from the heavens, a pillar of white-hot fire spiraling down through the clouds. The entire valley filled with a blinding light, as if the gods themselves had finally been made aware of the chaos and the darkness on the earth below and roused themselves to intervene.

The beam seared through the Shadow, rendering its flesh. It shuddered and wailed a pitiful, screeching cry that could be heard for miles around as it wriggled and twisted like an insect pinned down by a collector's pin.

There was another figure, just beyond the pillar of light. A girl was sitting alone, surrounded by a field of broken bodies, clutching a glowing black crystal of shadow in one hand. Inside the crystal, she thought she could feel the beat of a drum, because inside of it was sealed an evil spirit- a spirit she knew well. She had sealed it away herself, though she still cradled its former body in her lap, her cheek and hair smeared crimson.

He lay still, his chest open and bloody, but his face took on the cast of a sleeping person. She continued to stroke his hair, looking down at the two condemning red lines tattooed on both of his cheeks. He was beautiful, she thought, as much as she had imagined him to be.

Behind her, the Hylian banners and trumpets were raised as the army of the true King finally came forward, picking its way through the wreckage and blood, the evidence of the massacre that had just happened. The door to the Sacred Realm lay undisturbed behind them, safe. All looked on at the scene before them, at the Light.

In front of her, another army was fleeing upon seeing the apprehension of their ultimate weapon. But the gods were not finished yet, because the final judgment was yet to come. The sky was so bright now. Three figures of light assembled close to where the Shadow lay squirming. She thought she saw movement within each of them, but before she could discern the shapes, they merged together in a single light so bright it blinded her.

Then there was a single figure, holding a large, white mirror. Projecting it into the sky, hot white circular patterns lifted out and projected a dark, revolving gateway in the direction that the enemy was fleeing. The sound of the voice that filled the valley was melodic, liquid, with the consistency of Light. It sang of judgment, of justice, of exile, though she did not understand the words-not exactly.

The Shadow slowly lifted off of the ground, still flailing, and flew into the gateway first, as if a large hand had tossed it into a refuse pile. As Impa looked on, she realized that the fleeing army too, was being sucked into the portal. Even from the distance she could see the fear in their faces, the red tattoos gleaming below their eyes as their bodies drifted backwards, disintegrating into shards of shadow falling into the abyss.

She and all of the Hylian Army watched with mixed horror and amazement as the enemy disappeared to the world beyond the mirror's portal with frightening finality. When the circles dropped and the mirror's light went out, the silence was drowned out by a raucous cheer that filled the valley as much as the Light had.

The God holding the mirror turned, blazing. He stared at Impa, and she squeezed the crystal in her hand, holding it close to herself.

When the tears began to fall, they caught the light, and she remembered the very first day she had spoken to Sheik, when it was his tears that had shimmered in the morning sun. Then she understood at once why even then she had thought it had seemed so lovely.

Then, when she was unable to bear the weight of all of that Truth, she began to cry aloud, crying much more than she had ever seen him cry, allowing the drops to spin like liquid light in the air.

 

 

* * *

When she arrived in Kakariko later that night, the village was deathly silent. Even the ghosts of the graveyard ceased their nightly haunting.

She stood in front of his house, gazing upon its frames as she held the torch in one hand and the shadow crystal in the other. Her cheeks were still flushed with fever, but that discomfort was beyond her. She gazed on the familiar house she had spent many happy childhood moments, the place he had felt most at home.  
  
When the remains of the house went up in flames, she was overcome with peace.  
  
Looking around the still village, her home, she almost casually began laying down her plans. So this is what it feels, she thought almost too carelessly, to be one the last of a kind. She was the survivor of a murdered race, an exiled race. Her father and mother were dead, as were her brother and her sister…  
  
So it was no longer a village for the Sheikah… but it was still a good home. The valley below Death Mountain provided coverage, and there was the natural aquifer underground that could provide water. As she looked back at the burning house, she thought that this spot would rather be a good place for a well. Then she looked down at the crystal still clutched in her hand. It was silent - it had stopped drumming since the exile. But it was only dormant, for now.  
  
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of one of the tapestries hanging off of the building. The crimson Sheikah eye stared back at her longingly, unblinking, unmoving.  
  
With a soft laugh to herself, she squat down and began to copy it into the ground with her finger. Even on the ground, it seemed to gaze into her, soul and all, but Impa stared back at it impassively.  
  
She drew a single line down from the center of the bottom eyelid. It gave her the impression of sadness, betrayal, loss and yet, resilience. Yes, that was what was all that was left of the Sheikah.  
  
Through the blurriness of her tears, she thought she saw shadows on the ground, swaying all around her. Getting to her feet, she turned away from the burning house to face the dim figures standing there. They seemed to look approvingly at her rendition of their symbol, nodding at her just as they had done in life, and she recognized every one of them. She even made out the faces of Emeth and Aiza in the crowd, slowly making their way to the graveyard as they gave her proud and knowing glances. Her brother waved at her with two fingers, and Aiza had her arm around him, laughing silently but merrily.  
  
Impa was confused a moment, because she knew that the lens were still in her satchel on her waist. As she blinked and her vision cleared a little more, the procession of souls toward the Temple faded from her sight.  
  
She went to reach for the lens, but… No. She knew instinctively he wouldn't be among them. He was… She shook her head and lowered her hand, resting it instead over the glowing shadow crystal.  
  
Then wiping her eyes, Impa smiled.  
  
"Good night."

 


End file.
